Dreams are for real
by Samino Chene
Summary: I end up in the closet of my room, hidden in some blankets. I sleep in the closet, because the bed is too open to an attack. I hear the door open, and instinctively grab for the pocket knife I keep under my pillow. The blade reflects the slit of light...


"**Reality is Wrong. Dreams Are For Real"**

I wake up happy, then realize, I'm awake. I miss that dream world I was just in instantly. The world where I am safe. Where I can't be hurt. Where my family still exists.

I rise with the thought and pad along the large tiled floor into the kitchen. My house is very large, and very empty. That's just the price of winning the Games, though I often feel swallowed up by my house. As if I'm being hidden from the public, but it's just my paranoia.

I've changed since my Games, and paranoia is just one of the things on the list. My therapist, Dr Walworth, says I have clinical depression, post traumatic stress disorder, some type of eating disorder, and a mental illness that makes me mute, as well as a little crazy. He didn't say that last part, but I know by the way he looks at me. He thinks I'm crazy, but he doesn't see the real me. The one before The Hunger Games. She was the happiest person in district three. She smiled all the time, so brightly, that even the saddest person couldn't resist her bright halo of sunshine. That girl who could walk down the hall way and say hello to everyone, because she knew all their names. They were all her friends. That girl had a family, too. A large house full of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, a mom and a dad. They're all gone now. Taken away by the people who gave her this fortune.

My hand begin to flutter about on their own through cabinets as my thoughts progress. I hope they're making me breakfast, but I can't think of a reason to eat. I let them continue regardless.

After some odd minutes of silence, a hot plate sits before me. It contains pancakes, bacon, sausage, and a potato. I stare at it blankly, urging the fork to lift a chunk of the fluffy disk into my mouth, but nothing moves. I continue to stare, and stare, but the fork still won't budge. The silverware must not like me today.

I get up, leaving the plate undisturbed, and drift into the living room for some means of purpose. I carefully walk around the rectangular room, studying each object subject to my gaze. The pictures seem straight enough, but tables have acquired a thin layer of dust since my maid, Radie, was last here. She's only 15, but she gets the job done efficiently. Something forbid she was chosen to enter the Games, because she's the only person I have in this life.

Not long after this thought does Radie appear in my living room. She says something, but the words never reach me. After she sees my unresponsive state, she sets off to do her cleaning.

I continue circling the room, until she comes back with my plate of food. She speaks again, only this time I hear

"Eletice, remember what Dr. Walworth said about eating? You need to eat three meals every day," She talks as if I'm a child. "Can you come to the kitchen and eat this please?" I take my pointer an middle finger then press them to my thumb, indicating no. The one useful thing my therapist taught me was sigh language. I only bother to listen to those parts of my visit with him.

"Eletice you need to eat anyway," she says this then grabs at my arm, attempting to bring me to the kitchen. I jump back, then dash for the stairs. I think she calls after me.

I end up in the closet of my room, hidden in some blankets. I sleep in the closet, because the bed is too open to an attack. I hear the door open, and instinctively grab for the pocket knife I keep under my pillow. The blade reflects the slit of light coming from the door of my closet and for a moment I admire it's beauty. Then a darkness disbands the light, and I tense for an attack.

As the door creeps open, I see a face poke around the edge of the door. It's Radie. Only Radie. I relax until I remember that she was trying to force feed me. Then I cover my eyes with my hands and roll onto my side. A pathetic attempt to hide, and return to the dream world.

She walks in and pulls at my wrist.

"No. You're not going to sleep. When will you learn that that world isn't real. What you have right now is real. I'm real, and this house around you is real."

"No," I whisper.

"What," she says, shocked at my first words in over six years.

"No!" I say, my voice rises as I lift my head from my hands. "I won't believe you! This world isn't real! Reality is wrong! Dreams… Dreams are for real," my voice cracks as I begin to cry. Radie comes down beside me and hugs me to her.

"It's okay, Eletice. Everything's okay," She expects me to say something again, but my mouth stays firmly shut as I drift back into my world of dreams, crying in her arms.

**This is written for the Starvation Monthly One Shot Challenge, which I have finally tracked down and located!**


End file.
